


It's Only A Problem If You Care. (But You Don't.)

by sellswordking



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sellswordking/pseuds/sellswordking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete Neon isn't good enough for Vince; he's a tit. A complete tool who doesn't deserve the attention. That's what bothers Howard when he catches them snogging behind the Nabootique. He is <i>not</i> jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Only A Problem If You Care. (But You Don't.)

**Author's Note:**

> I have never struggled with a summary so much in my life. I'm so sorry. Next time I'll just stick to making it part of the fic like normal. If you made it this far you're the best. Love you a little bit.

Howard was completely red.

Not like when he was angry, no sir, this was a different red. His _face_ was red, all the way to his hairline, as he was seeing something he was positive he was _not_ meant to see.

It was Vince’s fault! He _never_ did as he was asked!

_

Howard had been coming back from Lester’s when he spotted the corner of a bin bag peeking out from around the back of the shop. After _all_ they had gone through with that fox, and Vince still hadn’t learned his lesson?! Howard walked down the alley, intending to pick up the rubbish and give Vince a scathing lecture he wouldn’t soon forget, but was stopped when he heard soft, wet sounds. It was like . . . _kissing_?

Carefully, Howard snuck up and peered around the side of the building.

_Oh!_

Vince was standing there on his tip-toes with his arms around that absolute _titbox_ , Pete Neon. Turned out kissing was too _tame_ a word; they were properly snogging behind the shop! Neon’s hands were on Vince’s hips, his fingers kneading and twitching like he was going to startle away at any second, but Vince didn’t have any such fears. He was pressing all along Neon’s lanky, frail body about to break the pop star in half. Howard couldn’t pull his eyes away. He couldn’t even _move_ , he was completely frozen to the spot by the ice in his veins.

It wasn’t right, Vince didn’t snog shiny, vapid tools behind their shop! Vince flirted at pretty girls and they giggled and blushed and counted themselves lucky to get his attention. Vince wanted to _be_ a pop star, not snog them! Vince was breaking the _rules_!

“Okay, you should probably get out of here.”

Howard’s ranting was brought to a standstill. Had he ever heard Vince speak that quietly before? Usually it was like Vince was seconds from vibrating out of his own skin, he had to be moving at all times or he’d go mad. But standing flat on his feet with his arms still around his (fling? one night stand? . . . _boyfriend?_ Howard felt sick at the thought) _whatever_ Neon was, Vince was completely still. Howard could only see him from the back, but it sounded like he was smiling.

Neon trilled something at Vince that made him laugh. Howard gripped his arm and started twisting to keep quiet. _Use your words so I can understand you, you berk._

“No, but I _will_ keep that in mind. Seriously, I dunno when Howard’ll be back, you’ve _gotta_ go.”

At the sound of his name, Howard stopped giving himself a burn. He strained his ears like he couldn’t hear perfectly well already.

“He’d go mental if he saw us, and I’m not ready to deal with that. I’ll ring you in the week, yeah?”

Vince sounded . . . _sad_?

No, that wasn’t right, he was the sunshine kid. But it was right there in his voice, like when Lance Dior had first come around and started stalking him. Howard would never forget it, it didn’t fit on him at all.

Vince started to turn and Howard quickly ducked back behind the wall, watching as the bin bag a few feet from him was lifted off the ground.

So Vince _had_ been paying attention?

Howard suddenly felt _terrible_ for spying. He quickly (but _quietly_ ) went around to the front of the shop and made his way upstairs to the flat, determined to pretend he’d seen nothing.

_

He made it four days.

It wasn’t his fault! It was like Vince could _smell_ Howard’s guilt. He had been acting completely normal! (A few dropped tea cups whenever Vince entered the room and _one_ little shouting match over where Vince was spending all his time were _not_ an admission of guilt as far as Howard Moon was concerned. Being _concerned_ for his best mate, even if Vince couldn't know the reason, was perfectly acceptable behaviour.) But Naboo seemed to think there was a problem, and sealed them in their room with a spell that wouldn’t release them until they patched things up.

Vince was lying on his bed, stubbornly reading his _NME_ , and Howard was all prepared to let him while he had his own sulk until he saw who was on the cover.

“Aren’t that tit’s fifteen minutes up?” Howard asked, motioning to Neon’s smug face filling up the glossy paper. That heat was pricking up under his skin again, the same one that had started when he saw Pete's fingers digging into Vince's hips.

Vince looked over the top of the magazine with his eyebrow cocked, then calmly lowered it to his lap. “Alright, what’s your problem?”

“I don’t have one! Other than our landlord locking us in here and your refusal to help me get us out.” Howard would have tried to open the door again to illustrate his point, but it was over by Vince’s bed, and now that the man was looking at him, Howard couldn’t actually make himself move.

“Bollocks.” Howard nearly gasped. Vince didn’t really make a habit of swearing, except when he was pissed or _really_ angry. Perhaps he _hadn’t_ been as subtle as he thought. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you Howard, and if you don’t want to tell me that’s _fine_ , but we share a job, a flat--we even share a _room_! You can’t avoid me, it’s literally impossible. So either get on with it or work it out yourself, because I’d like my mate back.”

There it was again. Vince sounded _hurt_ , and Howard felt like a right prick. He was being foolish, all because Vince possibly had a pop star boyfriend and wouldn’t wanna hang around with his jazzy, out of the loop, _old_ flatmate anymore. Swallowing his pride, Howard made himself look firmly at the space a few inches from Vince’s head.

“I saw you and Pete Neon a few days ago. Out behind the shop.” He admitted after a few deep breaths. He kept himself from reaching for his wrist through sheer willpower.

“ _Oh_.” Vince said, like he was genuinely surprised.

There was a tense, awkward silence filling up the room, making breathing even more difficult. Vince didn't seem to want to pick up the conversation, but it was obvious things weren't getting any better now that the big secret was out. At least Vince wasn't shouting or coming at him with a pair of scissors. For one crazy moment, Howard wanted to tell Vince that Pete wasn't good enough for him, that he was just an idiot that got lucky and there _had_ to be better pop stars to snog. Another thought jumped into Howard's head though, now that the guilt was receding. One that he realized had been there quietly waiting all along. Since he'd already started the conversation, and Neon himself was _out_ as a topic, Howard cleared his throat and tried not to sound like it mattered too much. “So how long have you been gay?”

The look on Vince’s face was enough to tell him he’d immediately messed up.

“I’m _not_ gay. I go both ways, Howard, I told you." Vince crossed his arms over and the pout he'd been working on earlier threatened to turn into a full on strop. "You just don’t listen to things you don’t want to hear.” Vince added, quietly. Somehow that hurt worse than the glare.

But Howard could remember a thousand conversations they’d had, and never _once_ had Vince said as much to him! _That_ he's sure he would have remembered! 

Or . . . pretty sure, anyway?

Okay, in his defense, Vince _had_ never actually said the words. But, thinking back, he had dropped some _pretty_ clear hints. But it only left Howard with more questions than answers.

“How come I never see you with any men?” Howard asked, trying to regain some footing in what he was positive was becoming an argument.

Vince shrugged, but his cheeks had gone a delicate shade of pink. “You know how you get. You were acting so weird any time a man paid the slightest bit of attention to me, I couldn’t imagine how you’d get if I started flirting back.”

“Well, because it was strange!” Howard shot back, trying to figure out how _he'd_ ended up the one under attack in this. “Men came up to you all the time, asking if you wanted to go for drinks or offering to buy your clothes at Top Shop! They crowded you while I stood _right there!_ How did they know we weren’t together?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Howard felt his brain screech to a halt. 

Vince’s made a face like Howard had given him Marmite and told him it was Nutella. “Howard?”

“What?”

“Are you jealous?”

“ _What_?” Howard started to panic.

Vince lit up. He climbed off the bed, his scrawny legs far more graceful than they had any right to be. Howard backed up until he hit the wardrobe, but Vince followed him all the way.

“You _are_!” Vince crowed, gleefully. “You’re _jealous_! You’re jealous of Pete, and all those men who fancied me! _You_ fancy me!”

Howard had worked himself up into a state while Vince _gloated_ at him, and suddenly years of uncomfortably watching Vince wave away male admirers while they were out together came crashing into his brain like a monsoon. It was clangy and disconnected, like electro trying to be jazz, like fashion in beige, like a tall, northern bumbaclot trying to court Camden’s darling crowned prince.

Without realizing he was doing it, Howard shoved Vince away and raced to the door. He started banging on it, screaming for Naboo to let him out. He couldn’t stand another second of it; he’d been mocked his whole life, but it had never once made him feel so _ill_.

Deceptively strong hands put a stop to his frantic escape attempt.

Howard was turned around, and Vince was standing there looking shame faced like a child.

“I’m sorry, Howard. I wasn’t trying to be mean.” Vince was speaking softly again, like he had that day behind the shop, and Howard instantly shut up to listen. “I was starting to think you were disgusted by it, but you’re not! You don't care that I like boys and girls, you’re just thick.” Vince grinned wide, but Howard wasn’t understanding.

“This is a crap apology, Vince.” Howard said, still trying to get his heart to stop banging about against his ribs.

Vince shook his head. “No, don’t you see Howard? I’m not apologising! Thing is, I’m actually _happy_. I’m really, really _happy_ you fancy me.”

Then Vince was on his tip-toes again. Only this time, he wasn’t behind the shop with a half-avian tart. He was with _Howard_.

Vince was _kissing_ Howard.

At first it was just the soft press of Vince's lips against Howard's, until nearly on instinct, Howard wrapped his arms around Vince’s slim waist, pulling them closer together as he returned it. It still wasn't fully sunk in, but he wasn't going to miss this chance. He pressed his tongue against Vince’s lips, tasting strawberries from his lipgloss and humming. Vince actually seemed to _giggle_ into it, and it just made Howard hold him tighter. All the years he watched Vince buffet about on the attention of others, never fully understanding the reason it made him so uncomfortable. He had never wanted to  _be_ Vince, basking in the attention of adoring strangers.

Howard just _wanted_   _Vince_.

The magic that had been keeping the door closed dissipated right as Howard let himself lean back onto it for support. It flew open and they both went tumbling out into the hallway with a series of yelps and a grunt from Howard when one sharp elbow connected with his gut.

“‘Bout time!”

Howard looked up to see Naboo’s smirk over the back of the couch, and Bollo handing over forty quid. His embarrassment and indignation were smothered, however, by Vince’s eager lips.

He’d tell them off later. They had some catching up to do.


End file.
